


Three Choices

by not_poignant



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Caning, Coercion, Crying, Dark, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Spanking, aftercare (eventually), bad business practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:09:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_poignant/pseuds/not_poignant
Summary: A mouthy carpenter by the name of Mal is hard up for work and takes a contract with the infamous Lewis Mount. Lewis, unhappy with the quality of Mal's work, decides to extract something of value from Mal in other ways.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a PWP two-part oneshot of two characters that I'm thinking of exploring further in an urban fantasy series, but for now here they are as their incredibly dysfunctional human selves. This fic is fairly dark for a PWP two-parter, but there is some comfort coming at the end of chapter two. The tags also include part two, which is written and will go up next week! Hopefully y'all enjoy. :D

Mal picked up the ticket because no one else in the company wanted to do underpaid labour for the antique bookkeeper and librarian who owned his small but gleaming store down Chessmaker street. But Lewis Mount had purchased the foreclosed bakery next door and was intent on expanding. Most of the work had been done already, but an order had been put in for new shelving, and instead of requesting a quote like most normal people were meant to, he instead put down the amount he was willing to pay on the ticket alongside his demands.

The only reason Mal’s boss hadn’t turned it down was that the very market that had made the baker foreclose was one that meant a lot of people weren’t seeking the work of fine carpenters these days, many were trying their own hands at the craft to save money.

That was how Mal found out directly that Lewis – who’d always seemed a bit rude and stuck up and perfectly put together from a distance – was definitely rude, stuck up and perfectly put together up close as well. From his coiffed black hair to his clear, icy blue eyes, to the way the hems of his shirt, jacket and pants all fit like they’d been tailored.

Mal was put to work getting the floor ready for the new shelves to go in, after Lewis had gone over his ideas for the place, and Mal had carefully tried to point out why some of those ideas wouldn’t work with the budget he’d outlined. Lewis hadn’t been open to criticism, and Mal – increasingly annoyed – tabled it to bring up later.

Lewis wouldn’t leave his office while the work was going on, even though it was clear that the store was closed and he kept acting like he had better things to do, coming out every ten minutes to stare at Mal like he’d spit in his cress sandwiches or something. Mal wanted to ask about it, but kept getting the feeling that Lewis was staying because he didn’t trust Mal, which was ridiculous, because Mal didn’t give the first shit about antique books, or the uptight twat that maintained them.

The next day, at ten, Mal had done the worst of the heavy work and was now drilling in the lower fittings for the shelves. The option for moveable shelving wasn’t something Lewis had jumped at, and Mal couldn’t say he blamed him. He preferred fixtures starting in the ground, so that even if the shelves had to be replaced in the future there was something to anchor them down. All the better to stop kids and adults accidentally knocking them over or pulling them onto themselves.

Mal was lost in his own world while drilling before he became aware of a presence behind him. When he looked up, he saw Lewis towering over him and almost cringed. Annoyance spiked through him. What _now? _

‘Excuse me,’ Lewis said, though Mal could only see the shape of the words, couldn’t hear them through his noise cancelling headphones and the sound of the drill. He stopped slowly, not wanting the bit to get caught in the foundation, then lifted off his headphones. God, he could do without the interruptions, he just wanted to get done and get paid.

‘What?’

Lewis’ eyes narrowed. He scowled down and Mal felt exposed and didn’t like it. Stupid judgemental prissy asshole, with his cheekbones and his stupid blue eyes.

‘What is your name?’ Lewis said.

‘Mal.’

Mal knew that he _knew _that, because it was on the docket that clearly stated who the ticket was being fulfilled by. Mal had handed it to him, and Lewis had looked at it for an awfully long time. So he had to have known.

‘Mal,’ Lewis repeated.

‘Yeah, Mal. What’s wrong with that?’

‘Well, what is it short for? Mallory? Malcolm? Malefactor?’

‘Male-what? Fuck you. Fuck you, that was rude, wasn’t it?’

‘Would you like the Dewey decimal information for our Oxford English Dictionary so you can look it up?’

Mal grit his teeth together and started to put his headphones back on, then stared in outrage when Lewis’ fingers snapped around the ear cover. His nails were shiny, clean and buffed. Mal’s nails were broken, ripped and jagged, also there was dirt and dust under them because no matter what he did – and he didn’t try that hard – it was impossible to clean his job out from under them every day.

‘What?’

‘You are rude, loud and obnoxious. Continue, and I will take it out of your pay check. Your company said they were sending the finest, but I’m beginning to think they sent their prison apprentice, except I’d expect better from _them.’ _

‘You want me to drill quietly?’ Mal said, smiling sweetly. ‘Is there some kind of code for explaining what hardware tools are? Or just tools in general? You could look yourself up.’

He expected Lewis to do something like sputter, but instead the older man just smiled, like Mal had done something clever. Mal felt even warier and shrugged after a moment.

‘Yeah, whatever, I’ll be done in ten minutes and then I can take my break. But you know you don’t have to stay while I’m drilling. I have like a police clearance and shit.’

‘If you think I’m leaving these antiques in here with the likes of you, unsupervised…’ Lewis rolled his eyes and walked away. ‘I don’t know what this world is coming to,’ he muttered under his breath, and Mal knew he was meant to hear it.

He picked up the drill after putting on his headphones and when he was on his lunch break, looked up ‘malefactor’ and seethed quietly, all while Lewis sat in his stupid office and ate what looked like home-made stir fry with his pretty dark brown chopsticks. The aroma was incredible, Mal was sure he hadn’t eaten food that good for a long time, and lord knew he wouldn’t be able to afford food that fine while Lewis paid him a pittance for heavy work.

_Wanker, _Mal thought. _Wanker, wanker, wanker! _

He got back to work and even though it wasn’t necessary, he changed the torque on the drill to make sure it was extra loud, even though it slowed him down.

*

‘This doesn’t look square,’ Lewis said, standing over the base mount as Mal packed up his things with grimy hands, because Lewis wouldn’t let him use the bathroom. ‘Too dirty,’ he’d said.

‘It’s square,’ Mal said, grinding his teeth together. His jaw hurt. His hands ached from the drilling and sawing and sanding, his hips were sore where he’d shifted into odd angles on the ground, moving around other fixtures and trying to make sure he didn’t get too much crap everywhere else. He swept everything up even though he’d just be back the next day, making more mess. But it was important for the client, and Mal figured it was even more important for an asshole like Lewis.

‘It doesn’t _look _square.’

‘The sun’s setting, it’s casting long shadows, you want to look up the sun next?’

‘You know,’ Lewis said archly, like he was a lecturer about to deliver a lesson, ‘I find I don’t much like your attitude. I’m giving you paying work, and-’

‘-You’re paying us three times less than what this job is worth. We’re not so stupid as to not see when we’re being short-shrifted by someone taking advantage of a shit economy. _Sir.’ _

Lewis looked up, eyes twinkling, the shadows turning one half of his face into a razor cheekbone and darkness.

‘Stupid enough to take the job though, weren’t you, Malefactor?’

Mal ground his teeth together so hard his teeth squeaked, slung his pack over his shoulder, picked up his toolkit and walked past Lewis. He jerked backwards, yelping in shock, turning only to see Lewis already letting go of his pack and looking at his hands as though they’d been sullied.

‘What the sweet mother-of-fuck is it now?’ Mal said.

‘You have a filthy mouth.’

‘And? It’s not my mouth you need, it’s my hands, otherwise you’d be doing this job yourself. Can I go now? Need to get my sleep so I can be back bright eyed and bushy tailed and all that.’

Lewis tilted his head back, surveyed Mal, eyes roving his face.

‘I bet the girls in all the bars love you,’ Lewis said, his voice richer. ‘That full, dirty mouth between their legs, teeth scraping clumsily, all roughshod like a stallion with no breeding.’

Mal thought that actually, he wanted to kill Lewis, and that he had the tools to do it, but not the tools to make it look like an accident.

‘At least I can get some,’ Mal muttered.

Truth was, he didn’t give a shit about girls in bars, and hoped Lewis was reclusive enough to have no idea where Mal’s dirty mouth had been. Mal’s teeth had never accidentally scraped a cock, and he knew the location of every gloryhole in Tradsbury, and _may _have been responsible for making the one on Epcester Square well known in the first place.

‘Gotta get home,’ Mal said.

‘Of course,’ Lewis said, smiling. ‘See you tomorrow. I hope there will be rather less drilling.’

‘Keep hoping, dipshit,’ Mal spat, and left, slamming the door behind him, hearing the little jingling of the stupid bell ringing in his ears long after he’d turned right off Chessmaker street.

*

At five the next morning, Lewis let him in while wearing a pale blue dressing gown that looked fancy and soft, holding a cup of tea with a teabag still in it. He had bed hair, and Mal wanted to alternatively laugh outright at him, cut his hair off, or touch it.

‘You’re early,’ Lewis said. ‘You’re lucky I even opened the door.’

‘It’s good to be lucky!’ Mal chirped, brushing past him and dumping all his stuff on the floor – except his toolkit, had to be gentle with that – and watched as Lewis winced as though the sound of _that _was too much to bear. ‘Rough night?’

‘The wine,’ Lewis said. ‘She sets me up gently and lets me down every time.’

‘Great,’ Mal said, but what he thought was: _You fucking sack of piss. _

‘Mm,’ Lewis squinted at Mal like he wanted to find something wrong with him, but then he sipped his tea, flicked the end of the teabag hanging over the cup, and wandered off in the direction of his office.

Mal made a point of finding something to drill, even though – technically – he didn’t need to be doing that so early in the morning.

*

He had to stop at morning tea because his wrists hurt from holding the poorly juddering machine for so long. It wasn’t fun to drill with the wrong bit just to make more noise, even if it _was _worth it.

As Mal sat on a stool near the till and stuffed half a cold pastie into his mouth, Lewis came out with a pained expression on his face, and Mal felt _great _about it. He hoped he had the worst headache on the planet. Hoped he puked on his priceless books.

Instead, Lewis walked over to the work Mal was doing and squinted down at the drill. He was wearing a suit now, and the little Albert chain that connected his pocketwatch to the t-bar at his lapel swung back and forth. Lewis placed both of his hands on his knees as he bent over to look closer, and Mal stared at Lewis’ ass freely, wishing he could give that a bite instead of the undercooked pastry in his mouth.

‘Malefactor?’ Lewis called.

Mal didn’t answer. That wasn’t his _name. _

Lewis stood and tilted his head as he raked his gaze over Mal from top to bottom. Even from a distance, it felt like he was towering over him. Mal didn’t like it at all.

‘Did no one ever teach you how to use a drill?’

Mal swallowed and then coughed, reaching for the black tea he had in his thermos. He drank hastily. There was no way Lewis knew the first thing about drilling, surely.

‘Why are you using a carbon steel bit for drilling into masonry?’

Lewis walked over, some terrifying mixture of anger and knowing and triumph on his face. Mal tried to think of an excuse, but he hadn’t considered Lewis would know a thing about drilling. Why would he? Most people didn’t! Surely he hadn’t been waiting all morning to come out and check what the drill bit was.

‘Guess…I forgot,’ Mal said.

‘You forgot,’ Lewis said gently. ‘You poor thing. So you mean to tell me that there’s no way you purposely changed the drill bit to make it more ineffective and therefore _louder _and _uglier, _because you’re a passive aggressive little toad?’

Lewis reached out and even as Mal ducked away, sharp mean nails pinched into the lobe of Mal’s ear and he yelped at the stinging pain.

‘I’m not a fucking kid!’ He froze, feeling like Lewis would happily rip his earlobe away rather than let go.

‘Did you, or did you not change the drill bit purposefully?’

‘You’re underpaying me anyway, you fucking wanker!’

‘Yes,’ Lewis said slowly, not in agreement, but in acknowledgement of Mal’s apparent sin. ‘I’m going to give you three choices, Malefactor. Listen and listen well. The first is that I can fire you, all your work will go unpaid, I will tell your boss that you purposefully misused tools and make sure you are unemployable at any carpentry company and you can try this fool’s economy on your own and I will enjoy knowing that even though you didn’t have very far to fall, given how grimy your life already is, you will still manage to fall further.’

The black tea was sour in Mal’s mouth.

‘Or, I can pretend none of this happened, if you let me exact a punishment. I can fuck you, or spank your no doubt naughty, hairy ass.’

Mal stared, processing everything quickly. The first option wasn’t an option at all. The last two didn’t sound much better, but Mal had a trump card that Lewis wasn’t aware of; being fucked in the ass wasn’t _that_ humiliating for him, and being spanked wasn’t something he was a complete stranger to. Neither of them happened very often, blowjobs and handjobs were far more common in a town like Tradsbury. No one wanted to risk getting caught by law enforcement, even though Mal knew for a fact at least three cops were getting some on the side.

His cheeks coloured anyway. He didn’t even think to try talking him out of it. He could tell from Lewis’ stance that he didn’t care if Mal threatened to report him, and Mal knew from talking over his requirements on the work ticket, he wasn’t one to negotiate.

‘You’ll pretend none of this happened…’ Mal said, and Lewis’ eyes glinted with an eagerness that Mal wanted to slap off his face.

‘It will be like you behaved with exemplary professionalism the entire time, and I will trust in the future that you will never be so deliberately ineffective again.’

‘What kind of spanking?’ Mal said. ‘And I want to see your cock, know what I’m getting myself into. Fuck knows if you’re hung like a horse I’m not gonna say yes to that.’

Lewis studied Mal like he’d said something unexpected. But after a moment he just gestured towards his office and walked there, and Mal followed, brushing crumbs off his fingers on his shirt as he went. And then he brushed his shirt to get rid of the crumbs. His heart pounded.

Maybe he should be trying to negotiate a way out of this.

‘Why are you such a pervert anyway?’ Mal said casually as Lewis closed the door. ‘I could report you for Lewd Acts, you know. There’s a law.’

‘There is,’ Lewis said. ‘But I am of good standing with our law enforcement and they do trust me whenever I make a complaint. I have never filed a false report before. I doubt they will believe your report over mine, street rat.’

Lewis leaned – facing Mal – against his heavy, wooden desk and undid his black belt, the leather sliding through the belt buckle. It moved through the loops of his pants smoothly and he coiled it carefully before placing it on the table. Then he undid the buttons of his fly, reached into his navy blue briefs and brought out a half-hard cock.

Mal immediately thought ‘no fucking way, too big’ but it was the jewellery at the end that caught his sudden, horrified attention. It was a Prince Albert piercing, but instead of a complete ring, it was incomplete, the three-quarter circle still resting through the slit and the glans, a ball securing one end, and a wicked silver dragon’s head peering through the end that emerged from Lewi’s cock slit.

_That _piercing had fucked his throat up, months ago, and he’d avoided it ever since when he’d seen it around gloryholes.

‘No need to be scared,’ Lewis said, stroking the silver dragon with the tip of his finger, before stroking the head of his circumcised cock, which twitched. ‘I can remove the dragon and replace it with a ball attachment. It won’t hurt nearly as much. I’m afraid I won’t take it out completely though, not for someone like you.’

Mal didn’t think anyone else had a piercing like that. Surely it had to be custom made, and he thought he remembered the cock too, which meant…

He considered Lewis in a new light, afraid, body feeling jittery.

‘You’re not fucking me with that,’ Mal said rustily, especially since he knew just how much bigger it could get. That silver dragon had scraped rough lines of fire down the back of his throat, and later it had infected and Mal had needed to get medicines for it. Lewis – if it had been Lewis – had been rough, and Mal knew that if he could have gotten his hands on Mal’s head, he would have pushed even deeper, been more damaging.

‘Then, in conclusion, you’re choosing option three? Be explicit, so this verbal contract can be finalised.’

Mal’s sluggish brain kept trying to speed up in stops and starts, trying to figure out a way out of this. But all it kept throwing at him was a staunch ‘if you close your eyes this will all go away’ which was probably a sign of how fucked he was. He stood in front of the closed door, the only exit, and watched as Lewis slowly jacked his cock like he was _really _enjoying himself. Everything about Lewis was a Lewd Act, apparently.

‘Go on, Malefactor,’ Lewis said. ‘I want to hear you make it clear what you want from me.’

‘I don’t want any of this from you.’

‘And yet you’re going to ask me, aren’t you?’ Lewis smile revealed slightly crooked, but clean teeth. His blue eyes bright with excitement. Mal swallowed and thought he could feel the phantom pain that piercing had left in his mouth last time.

‘There’s no option four?’ Mal said, forcing a laugh.

‘I could fuck _and _spank you,’ Lewis said, lifting his brows like that was a great idea.

‘So not what I meant,’ Mal muttered. He looked down at the parquetry on the floor, a few scratches in it, but otherwise clean. His shoulders were tense, his ass was clenched because he knew what was coming, and he couldn’t force himself to seem fine about it, even though all he wanted to do was pretend all of this was easy.

‘I don’t have all day,’ Lewis said. ‘And neither do you. I fully intend on keeping you back to make up for the time the punishment takes.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘It’s not,’ Lewis said. ‘But nor is the splitting headache I have from you purposefully choosing-’

‘You’re fucking hungover!’

‘And you are not making this any easier on yourself, are you, little Malefactor? Now, come on, this hand isn’t that scary is it?’

Lewis lifted his right hand, with its slender fingers, and Mal’s mind decided that the only feedback it had from here on in was random explosions of swear words.

‘Ask me, Malefactor.’

‘That’s not my name!’

‘It is in here,’ Lewis said. ‘Now, tell me which option you want, make it plain.’

Mal’s leg lifted and impulsively he slammed it back into the closed door, banging it in its hinges, making it rattle. Lewis didn’t move, his hand didn’t pause on his now fully hard cock, and Mal’s heart pumped like crazy in his chest.

‘I choose option three,’ Mal said, his voice shaking.

‘Which is?’

‘You spanking me,’ Mal finished.

‘Good! Good!’ Lewis put his cock carefully back in his briefs but didn’t do his pants up. He pressed his hands together. ‘It seems you can be taught after all! Let’s hope this helps with my headache, hm? Now come here, and I suppose I’ll see about making you regret _ever _having messed with me, in my own store.’

Mal gulped, unable to move and almost laughed. He reached back and placed his hand on the doorknob, but didn’t turn it. Lewis smiled the entire time, and eventually Mal let go and walked back to Lewis, thinking that he really hated the fucker, and that one way or another, he’d get his own revenge in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws this here and sprints off at high speed*
> 
> Lewis is the meanest Dom I've written in a while, and he's not even being *that* mean by his standards.

Lewis’ blue gaze glowed with triumph, and Mal stood there, repressing a shudder. He’d picked option three. He knew he’d survive it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Suddenly he found himself torn between wishing he’d never used that fucking wrong drill bit to extend Lewis’ headache, and wishing he’d used wrong drill bits from the beginning, just to feel like this was worth it.

‘We’ll get this over and done with quickly, I promise,’ Lewis said, a hand raising to his tie so he could shift it without taking it off. It looked like he was giving himself room to swallow comfortably. ‘Turn and face the desk, and drop those trousers of yours, if you please.’

Mal glared at him, but goddamn it, _fuck, _he’d agreed. He took three bravado-filled steps to the table, stared down at the clutter then undid the belt that was so old the leather was coming off in flakes. He undid his button fly with fingers that felt a little numb, then dropped his trousers.

‘Oh!’ Lewis said. ‘Your boxers have holes in them! How very _dear! _I suppose you’re chronically underpaid then, aren’t you, Malefactor? Drop those too.’

Mal ground his teeth together, then shoved his hands down, pushing his boxers off too. They caught somewhere at his knees, but Mal didn’t bother pushing them down the rest of the way. His shirt, thankfully, hung over most of his ass, but he knew that was a temporary comfort.

‘Lean over the desk like a truant schoolboy of old.’

‘I would, but there’s all this fucking clutter?’ Mal said, picking up a notepad and dropping it onto the floor.

Lewis walked over so quickly that by the time Mal tensed, a hand was already between his shoulder blades, knotting up his shirt. While holding him still—Mal feeling scruffed like a dog even though he wasn’t technically being held by the back of the neck—Lewis began rearranging the items on the table. Several ancient looking books alongside some new ones. Fabric bookmarks. A half-empty coffee mug alongside an empty teacup alongside another mug that looked like it was still full of water. Pens and fountain pens and one lonely graphite pencil and an eraser that was pristine and looked like it had never been used. Three paperweights, one in the shape of an iron, which Mal thought was kind of cute.

There was enough space that Mal could rest his forearms on the table, but he really didn’t want to. He bent over, uncooperative, as Lewis manhandled him into position easily.

‘Don’t make me restrain you,’ Lewis said softly. ‘I promise you, no matter what you think of the punishment, you won’t enjoy being entirely at my mercy.’

‘Just hurry the fuck up, already,’ Mal grumbled, dropping his forehead to the table. ‘God, was there an option five where you just _talk _to me? Cuz that’s the worst punishment of all.’

Lewis paused, and in that horrible silence that followed, Mal was sure that Lewis was going to thwack him. But Lewis did nothing, and after a moment he walked across until he was in front of the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a black leather glove. He stared at Mal levelly while he slipped it onto his right hand. Mal swallowed, staring at the glove.

_Ah, shit fuck. _

He expected Lewis to talk, but Lewis only calmly walked back around the table and placed his bare hand on Mal’s lower back. The skin of his palm was cool and dry. When the leather covered hand smoothed over his ass, he almost slammed his forehead into the table in frustration.

‘I was expecting a lot more hair,’ Lewis remarked. ‘Truly, you’re not furred at all, are you? Do you shave?’

Mal said nothing.

‘I don’t think you do,’ Lewis continued. Mal flinched forwards when he felt two leather fingers spreading the cheeks of his ass and baring him. ‘Oh, here’s some. My, there’s not much, is there?’

Mal’s chest and back moved with steady forced breaths. He kept himself as under control as he could. That hand on his lower back didn’t feel soothing, didn’t feel nice, just felt like a threat.

‘Ah well, you made your choice. I doubt you would have much liked my cock in that little hole of yours anyway. But you won’t like this either, _Malefactor.’ _

‘It’s not my _fucking _name,’ Mal said, then nearly groaned at how plaintive he sounded.

‘I get migraines,’ Lewis said. ‘They come with the hangovers, of course, though not every time. I work very hard, you see, and every person under incredible strain needs an outlet. How fortunate for me, that your rudeness provided me with one. Now, _don’t _try and leave this position, or it will be worse for you.’

Mal shoved his forearms beneath his head, kept his palms flat on the table.

The first true hit came after several small, mild taps of the leather glove on his left ass cheek. Then a pause—Lewis must have been swinging his arm back—and the sound clapped loudly into the room as his right cheek took the full force of it. Mal grunted, jerking forwards, but the initial sharp pain was easier to ride than he expected. Maybe he was just better at handling this kind of thing than the average person.

He quickly quashed any sense of personal pride in that, because that was _not _something to be proud of.

Lewis kept spanking him steadily and cruelly after that. He didn’t count off. He moved his hand arrhythmically, alternating between cheeks, sometimes four blows in a row on one, and then only one on the other, before moving back. The leather was loud, and what started off as warm, stinging pain that was bearable was turning to heat.

The heat skittered across his skin, and Lewis never gave him a chance to process a blow, because the other fell almost the next second. The hand at Mal’s sweating lower back pressed harder, fingers digging in, perfect manicured nails making marks in the sensitive skin.

The shame of it crept over Mal with the heat, like whatever was happening to his ass began clawing its way upwards, into his chest, his ears, his cheeks.

Lewis stopped, rubbing the globes of his ass, and Mal hissed and was glad it was over.

‘I’m so disappointed in you,’ Lewis said, his voice like a schoolteacher’s. Mal stiffened. ‘We could have had a perfect bon accord, but instead, you came in with an attitude and have escalated the entire time you’ve been here. I want you to think on that, Malefactor, and I want you to know that you’re going to be sorry.’

Mal blinked, turning his head a little to the side. That almost sounded like—

The next blow that sounded off against his ass didn’t ring as loudly as the pain did. He gasped, and Lewis hummed throatily behind him and slapped the same spot again three more times before launching into a new, brutal volley that had Mal trying to inch forwards and away into the desk.

The pain broke across him in cold and hot waves. He could feel that the skin was red and bruising inside, every slap of the leather burned him, and his hands clenched into fists.

‘You redden not quite as well as I would have hoped,’ Lewis said. ‘For such pale skin, what a shame. Is it starting to hurt now, Malefactor? Am I beginning to get through to you?’

It had started hurting about thirty blows ago, and Mal’s forehead ground down into the knuckles of his hands. At one strike that landed less on his rounded ass cheek and more on his hip, he cried out, and Lewis tapped the place like he meant to be soothing.

Then he spanked it again, harder, and Mal felt something instinctive overtake him. His hips surged away from the movement and he nearly swung off the desk completely, ready to run. Lewis stopped him, grabbing his hips with both hands. When Mal stood, Lewis took a handful of his hair in his leather glove and wrenched his head back to the table.

‘You agreed,’ Lewis said.

Mal opened his mouth to protest, to say he hadn’t agreed to _this, _but the words caught in his throat.

‘It’s meant to be a punishment,’ Lewis said, his voice cold. ‘What, did you think you’d _like _it?’

‘This is enough,’ Mal said. ‘Okay? I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Lewis said, and Mal could hear the smile in his voice. ‘You’re only sorry that it _hurts. _Aren’t you impressed, just a little? I didn’t even need to get my way in here…’

A shockingly bare finger poked rudely at the furl of his hole, and Mal made a sound of protest. His whole lower half felt like it was burning. But the finger moved away, and instead that bare hand moved familiarly over the hot, pained flesh, the leather clad hand keeping Mal’s head pressed into the table.

Mal shivered, his skin crawled, a wave of cold moved over his arms and back, followed by some racing, feverish heat. He felt it down in his groin, abashed to realise that the cruel use had made his cock begin to fill. It wasn’t much, but it made him feel sick. The humiliation that had been bearable before began to turn to something ugly, hooking into him as he tried to turn his head to the table so he could hide his face. Lewis didn’t let him.

‘Watch,’ Lewis said, moving his hand away from Mal’s ass and reaching towards a cup filled with stationery. He drew out a long, wooden ruler that was darkened with use. Thicker than the standard kind, the numbers fading in sections, ink splotches across it. Lewis lowered it so that Mal could see it clearly.

‘Now,’ Lewis said, his voice dark. ‘_Pray_.’

Lewis shifted, Mal abruptly realised what the ruler was for, and then the first stripe swung into him, the wood whistling through the air. Mal shouted at the shock of it, then made a bruised, wounded sound as the pain rolled into him. Lewis held him firmly in place, the hand in his hair now pinning him down by the shoulders with an arm much stronger than it looked.

A hissed breath behind him, like Lewis was the one who had taken the blow. Mal reeled when he realised that was the sound of Lewis’ lust, his eyes squeezing shut. God, was he totally getting off on it?

The next stripe of the ruler fell mostly across one ass cheek, but the end of the ruler cut meanly into the other. Mal cried out, panicking.

‘I’m bleeding!’

‘You’re not,’ Lewis said, his voice light, a sing-song of self-satisfaction. ‘But I’m glad it’s making an impression. The ruler is so good at measuring your guilt, isn’t it?’

Mal experienced a burst of rage at the pun, and then the ruler fell again, and again, and again.

Mal thought he could endure it, but he was wrong.

At the sound of his own wail into his fists he realised he’d made a mistake.

‘Stop! Okay, _stop! _I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’

‘Pray, Malefactor. I am not a merciful foe.’

Mal lifted up with his arms and was shocked at the strength that shoved him back down into the desk. He lifted his head at the last minute, stopping his chin from splitting on the wood. One of his arms lashed out, the clattering of desk clutter falling to the floor.

The ruler continued to fall upon him, burning him like a brand, making it hard to breathe. His eyes stung reflexively, spit gathered at the corners of his mouth, under his tongue. The next stroke, at the top of his ass cheeks, made him cough. He could no longer control his breathing.

‘Pray, Malefactor.’

_‘No! _I’m _sorry! _Come on, come on- Please, I’ll do anything, _please, _you can fuck me, you can-’

‘You made your choice. I’m quite glad you made the one you did.’

Lewis sounded breathless too, even joyful. The ruler fell right above the place where his boxers were caught midway down his thighs, and the sharp pop against his straining muscles had him pounding on the desk and then burying his face in his palm. A groan turned into a sob, and then another, and his whole face felt wet. His ears burned as hot as his ass did, his head feeling like it was on fire.

‘God, please, _please,’ _Mal begged, one of his legs buckling. Lewis’ body moved so that he was anchoring Mal down with his own bodyweight, leaning onto his back. It changed the angle of the blows, but still they fell.

‘You won’t do it again, will you, Malefactor?’

‘No!’ Mal shouted. ‘I swear, I _swear, I-’_

‘Hush. Take your punishment like a good boy.’

‘Please be done, god, _please_.’

‘Your voice breaks beautifully. I find myself hoping you’ll be rude to me again in the future. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Blows over fresh bruises? That’s its own kind of pain, did you know?’

Mal sobbed into his hands, his cock no longer hard, the pain everywhere. His whole body had been incredibly tense, and even though it couldn’t have been all that long, he felt it even in his cramping, curling toes and the ends of his fingers where they dug repeatedly into his palm.

His breath seized over and over in his chest when Lewis stopped.

‘You’re hyperventilating,’ Lewis said. It was a detached observation. ‘Am I so cruel?’

Lewis’ hand pressed against his ass, and the desk rattled when Mal slammed his hips into to try and escape the touch. It didn’t work, and Mal had to assume that Lewis’ touch was gentle as he rubbed his hand around swollen, reddened flesh. It felt like sandpaper.

‘I didn’t think a ruler would give you tramlines, but we’ve managed,’ Lewis said, running his fingers along a line that felt like needles and fire. ‘And are you very sorry?’

‘_Yes,’ _Mal said, his voice plaintive and lost.

‘I suppose I am very cruel, after all. Will you stay still until I finish?’

Mal forgot about his shallow, spasmodic breaths and couldn’t think for several seconds. That hand continued to touch him liberally, spreading the pain. He thought briefly of the way that piercing had torn up the back of his throat at gloryholes. Lewis was, indeed, very fucking cruel.

‘You’re not finished?’ Mal said.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded like that. Maybe not since he was six years old and terrified.

‘I’m _nearly _finished,’ Lewis said. ‘And I won’t use the ruler anymore if you stay still for me.’

‘You won’t?’

‘Kindly do me a favour and turn your head so I can see your face?’

Mal hesitated, and then—scared of that ruler and what Lewis could do with it—he turned his head. Lewis shifted and he could feel those blue eyes on him. A moment later a hand came down. Mal flinched, but Lewis was gentle as he used his fingers to collect the tears he could see and wiped them away. Mal pressed his lips together when he felt a surprisingly tender touch to his eyelashes.

‘They’re all clumped together,’ Lewis said. ‘I won’t draw it out much longer. Can you manage it?’

Mal was silent for a long time. He didn’t know if he could. He genuinely didn’t. He had a horrible vision of his brain breaking apart and the sound of endless screaming. It was stupid, but it clung to him, a horrid promise somewhere inside of him.

‘You can’t?’ Lewis said, sounding sceptical.

‘I don’t know,’ Mal managed.

‘I think I actually believe you,’ Lewis said. But he moved all the same, the position behind Mal one that made his heart trip over itself. Mal whined as fingernails scraped over one ass cheek. His breath came in a hiccup. ‘Shhh, Malefactor. Not much longer now.’

‘Please,’ Mal said, because he had to say something, even if it didn’t achieve a single thing.

‘This is the most kindly I’ve felt towards you since I’ve met you.’

The leather slap that followed was light—Mal could _tell _that it was—almost testing, but after everything else, it felt blistering. A strangled, high sound on the inhale, and Lewis hushed him again, almost soothing.

‘Not much longer,’ Lewis said, his voice rich now. ‘This is all…really quite lovely.’

Mal cried weakly as Lewis continued. None of the slaps fell as hard as they had before, he knew that Lewis was truly going much easier now than he had at any previous time. Except for the fact that he was still _hitting him. _

‘I could make this good,’ Lewis said conversationally, though his breathing was audible now, and Mal knew he was probably hard as fuck. ‘Very good. But a punishment is a punishment. I do see them through. Last five, Malefactor, you might want to find something to hold onto.’

The first of the last five had him shrieking. The blow as hard as the early ones, the leather against his skin resounding into the room. His forehead slammed into the table, but even that didn’t serve as an adequate enough distraction. He was distantly aware of Lewis reprimanding him for hurting his head, and the irony of that almost made him burst into giggles.

The rest that followed were more of the same. Mal screamed at the second last and was still catching his breath when the last one fell. Seconds later he yelped as Lewis pressed his fully clothed body against Mal’s thighs, ass and back, plastering himself and the feel of his considerably hard cock in his trousers against Mal’s body.

‘Quiet, Mal,’ Lewis said, laying his weight against Mal. It was suffocating, but weirdly soothing, as Mal’s breath and voice struggled to settle. Small distressed sounds at the top of every exhale, breaths uneven and trembling. ‘Be quiet now.’

The harsh fabric of Lewis’ trousers against his ass _hurt, _and Mal wanted to beg for mercy, but he was too scared of what Lewis might do if he so much as said anything wrong.

After a few more minutes, Mal managed to steady his breathing somewhat, but he couldn’t stop the stream of tears from his eyes. The table beneath him was wet and warm. His hands felt slippery.

‘Now, the polite and correct thing to do is thank me, sincerely, for the punishment.’

Mal’s fingers covered his face, spreading, slipping across his cheeks. But Lewis carefully moved them away. Mal didn’t miss the fact that one of his hands was still covered with the glove.

He wished he felt a burst of anger or rage, but it didn’t come. Instead, numbly, he said:

‘Thank you, Lewis, for the punishment.’

‘Good,’ Lewis said. ‘That’s good! All right, stay there, I’m going to get you some water. I’ll be right back.’

Lewis stood and stepped away, and too quickly it seemed, was gone from the room. Mal started to sag, then had a vision of how it would feel if his ass hit the ground or his heels, and his knees locked in place. He rubbed at his face, but his sweaty palms didn’t do much to stop him from feeling like such a mess.

He felt alone. He didn’t even _like _Lewis, but he’d rather he be there in the room instead of just…

‘My, you do look penitent,’ Lewis said, coming back into the room. Mal jerked, feeling so raw that even words felt abrasive. Lewis hadn’t sounded particularly cutting, but it didn’t matter. ‘Here, can you stand?’

Lewis set the glass of water down and placed his hand at Mal’s lower back, sliding the other easily beneath Mal’s shoulder. He showed a familiar ease with Mal’s body, like he did this all the time.

He helped, staying close as Mal stood there, feeling like the room was swaying in tune to the throbbing pain in his ass and thighs. He blinked, blurry, and then flinched when something approached his face.

Softness against his forehead, and Mal realised it was a handkerchief.

‘Here,’ Lewis said. ‘What a mess you’ve made.’

But Lewis cleaned him up, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket when he was done. He picked up the glass of water and held it to Mal’s lips. Mal lifted his hand to take the glass.

‘No, Malefactor.’

He dropped his arm, opened his mouth and a tiny bit of cool water slipped over his tongue. It took him a few seconds to remember how to swallow, and the action felt harder than it should. But it was easier after that, and Lewis let him have more, careful to never spill any where the edges of the glass met his mouth.

When the water was finished, Lewis set the glass down and then bent, sliding Mal’s boxers back up his legs. When the fabric touched his ass, he shuddered, lurching like he could get away from his own clothing.

‘Hold still,’ Lewis said.

Mal remained still and closed his eyes to the pain of it. The fabric of his boxers, and then his tighter, heavier workpants over that. Lewis even did up the button fly, fingers moving efficiently over the buttons. He slid the belt back into the loops, not remarking on its state of wear.

‘Look at me,’ Lewis said.

Mal looked at him, and Lewis looked…pleased, smug, all the things that should make Mal furious. But all the rage had leeched out of him. He was exhausted. He noticed a flush in Lewis’ cheeks, wondered if he beat off when he got the glass of water, or if he’d just put up with his hard on for however long it lasted.

‘Now!’ Lewis said brightly. He grasped Mal by the shoulders and turned him back to the door. ‘Back to work, if you please!’

Several seconds passed where Mal felt dislocated from everything. Work? He was supposed to work? He vaguely remembered Lewis saying something about that before, but…

_I fully intend on keeping you back to make up for the time the punishment takes. _

‘What?’ Mal whispered.

‘Go on!’ Lewis said. ‘Chop chop! I expect good work from you, Malefactor.’

Mal stared at the door and then took a weak step forwards. God, the way the fabric of his clothing moved against his own ass was insane. He froze, gasping a little, and then forced himself to keep moving. He was glad Lewis couldn’t see the look on his face, and glad that Lewis didn’t follow him into the workspace and stayed in his office, presumably to clean up.

Mal slowly knelt down by the space he’d been drilling, feeling like a year had passed since he’d last seen his drill with its incorrect drill bit. He changed the drill bit automatically with clumsy, aching fingers, and then stopped, feeling sick. The pain in his ass and back and thighs was agonising. Even though Lewis hadn’t hit his back at all, it was like the nerves were radiating an awful heat up through him. He felt wounded, bloody and broken. He felt in no condition to get back to the labour he wanted to do.

He was scared to use the drill.

He held it in his hands and managed to squeeze the trigger to make sure the bit was securely attached. But it spun meaninglessly in the air, and then Mal stopped, dazed. He carefully lowered the drill to the ground but didn’t let go. He hurt. He needed something. He wished he could hide in his bed for a week.

When Lewis came out minutes later, Mal started shaking.

‘Are you wasting my time? Because if you are, I think-’

Lewis stopped in front of him, looking down. Then Lewis crouched in front of him and looked at Mal, then looked at the drill. Mal pressed his trembling lips together when he felt fingers under his chin, tilting his face upwards. He looked aside, too scared to look at Lewis.

‘Oh,’ Lewis said. ‘Oh dear.’

Mal said nothing at all. He hoped the words meant that he wasn’t about to be punished again. He’d probably have to leave Tradsbury for good. He pictured himself running down Chessmaker street and then nearly laughed when he realised he wouldn’t be able to run, because he’d be in too much pain.

‘All right,’ Lewis said, carefully drawing the drill out of Mal’s hand. He was no longer wearing the black leather glove. ‘Let’s make sure you don’t accidentally drill a hole in your body. That won’t be fun for any of us. We don’t need a sacrifice of blood on the new shelves, do we, Malefactor?’

‘No,’ Mal whispered.

‘And let’s try this again. What is Mal short for?’

‘Mallory.’

‘Very good,’ Lewis said, sounding like he _meant _it. Mal’s lip trembled harder than before, and he ducked his head away from the fingers keeping his chin up. The tears spilled and he couldn’t stop them. He felt wretched.

‘I know, I know,’ Lewis cooed. ‘Come here, Mallory.’

Mal was confounded when Lewis sat in front of him and drew him into his lap. His arms were strong, wrapping around him. Mal was even more confused by the way he melted into it, like he _needed _it. His breath hiccupped again, crying quietly into Lewis’ shirt.

‘In this wretched economy, I don’t imagine they pay you for a day off,’ Lewis said.

Mal shook his head.

‘All right,’ Lewis said, stroking Mal’s hair. ‘This red colour, it suits you very well. Is it natural?’

Mal nodded, still crying, weak and sore. Desperate for Lewis’ arms around him.

‘It is? Well! That’s a devil’s red, that is. And you don’t like Malefactor? But it suits you so well. Are you calming down at all? No? That’s all right, dear thing, just relax. It’s over. It’s over. Ah, maybe my first impression of you was a little too exacting but not quite exact.’

Lewis’ hands were attentive, keeping him secure, occasionally rubbing his shoulder or arm. Mal was limp, feeling thoroughly sorry for himself, surprised at how quickly he’d been broken down, how wrecked he felt.

He didn’t know how long he lay slumped against Lewis’ body, or how long Lewis held him for. By the time Lewis leaned back a little, Mal had stopped crying, his cheeks dry and itchy. His breathing was steadier, he felt a bit more like he was back in the world, but he didn’t feel well.

‘Now, do you think you can go back to work?’ Lewis said.

Mal nodded. Then shook his head. Then nodded again.

‘Tell me, Mallory.’ Lewis’ tone was a direct command, and Mal couldn’t fathom not answering it.

‘Am I allowed to drill?’ Mal said uncertainly. ‘I don’t… I don’t know if I should…’

‘You may do whatever you need to do, as long as it’s necessary for the job. And in an hour you’re going to stop and take a break.’

‘But- I have to get the job done, and-’

‘In an hour, you’re going to stop and take a break. We’ll work the rest out later, all right?’

Mal was relieved that Lewis could sound as strict about these things as he did about mean things. He nodded, and Lewis eased away.

‘Good boy, Mallory.’

A hand ruffled his hair, then petted the top of his head like one might pat a dog. Mal grimaced, but didn’t mind it. Lewis walked back to his office and Mal shifted, groaning softly at the pain. God, he must be covered in bruises and welts. He wanted to look at them, but it would have to wait until he got home.

But he could pick up the drill, and he leaned in to get back to work and realised he didn’t need to drill at all. He quickly assessed what he was meant to be doing, and reached for the brush to sweep the by-products of drilling out of the way. He looked towards Lewis’ office and then focused on his work, the pain smoothing out his thoughts, forcing him to focus on the tasks ahead of him.


End file.
